


Earthly Pleasures

by TuesdayValentine



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, If you can read through it more power to you, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, This is just some personal closure yinz guys, What Have I Done, book and show canon are totally interchangeable, far more angst than even I anticipated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuesdayValentine/pseuds/TuesdayValentine
Summary: Aziraphale has been losing the more angelic qualities of his nature since the humans were first made. First it was lying, then eating, dancing, even the occasional nap. There was one earthly pleasure he hadn't considered at all, however, until the Demon unwittingly brought it up. The Demon who, as it happens, hadn't considered it either.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale wasn’t exactly clear on the criteria for falling but he was certain he’d met them by his first few centuries on earth. The world was still gleaming and new when he first broke his celestial nature for the humans with a lie - to God Herself no less - and at that point there were all of two of them. How was he expected to continue as a celestial being when his sympathies for the humans had to encompass more than a handful of them? And quite soon there were very many more than a handful.

Between the lies to the divine and the frivolous miracles (a few extra coins in a purse here, a town protected from plague there) he felt certain the day was coming...but it never did. He explained this to himself as God’s knowledge of her creations’ effects - and of course, the ineffable plan. But it did make him get quite loose with the rules. Nothing evil, per say, just some earthy delights. What would a little gross matter and dancing harm if lying to God was forgivable? He did try to keep it...on board, if not strictly above. The rest he could leave to Crawley. Crowley, as he preferred these days. Crowley, who was now sitting beside him on a park bench in the wake of the Apocalypse. Or, the almost Apocalypse, as it were.

Aziraphale was still reeling from the implications of what had happened in the previous days. All those centuries doubting every step, every earthly temptation (crepes being not the least considerable) and here it had come to it’s predestined conclusion, which was...nothing. Sitting on a park bench, knowing less than ever about his role in the ineffable plan.

“I feel somewhat...shortchanged, if I’m being quite honest,” he said to Crowley, who was stretched over the bench in a remarkably serpentine way for a human form.

The demon laughed and peered over his sunglasses. “What, s’not good enough for you? Escaping the fires of hell, surviving the trials of the divine, saving the entire bloody world? You find it...lackluster, do you?”

He considered this. “Well, yes, if I’m being perfectly honest. I expected...”

“What did you expect, angel? Answers? Don’t be stupid.” He looked up into the sky absently. “There aren’t any answers for us or for any of ‘em. We’re s’good as humans now, this is the answer we get,” he raised his arms to vaguely indicate the world around them.

“I supposed as much,” said Aziraphale, trailing off. He tried to articulate his thoughts and failed, landing on “well, seems rather vague. As to the rules and such. You’d think the Almighty might leave us with-“

“A book, perhaps?” Crowley lolled his head towards Aziraphale and grinned. The angel started, wondering if Crowley had come into such a book. Maybe it would be dusty. Leather-bound. Full of difficult to decipher regulations. “You really are a prat,” Crowley sighed, seeing the hopeful reaction. “You’ve gotta get used to the fact that it’s just us now. We’re all we’ve got.”

Aziraphale looked around. It was a lovely day. The ducks were bobbing happily in the water, stuffing themselves with the bread of secret agents who hadn’t the slightest that their clandestine meetings were almost postponed indefinitely by the end of the world. The sun was bright as anything. The air smelled of the bakery across the square. “Well...” he said, unsure. “I might like to learn a new dance, then.”

“What are you on about?” Crowley groaned.

“I mean,” he continued, “the apparent...freedoms of our new positions and all. The Gavotte hasn’t been fashionable in quite some time. I never learned another because of the apparent...err...un-angelic implications.”

Crowley laughed shortly. “Implications, were there?” He straightened slightly. “Well then, what dance, Angel? The Electric Slide?” he enunciated the name more than he needed to, hoping Aziraphale would gather he was joking.

“Is it also French?” He asked, brightening. “Quite nice dances, the French have. I’ve always thought so, anyway.”

Crowley ignored the Angel’s earnestness, refusing to sink so low as to explain the thing. “I’m all for dancing. Right up there with any other pleasures this lot gets. Stone massages and bottomless mimosas and...the thing with all the bending on the mats.”

“Yoga,” the Angel supplied, happy to contribute. Then asked, less sure, “Did you say, err, stone massages?”

“Something the humans like, paying money to get covered in hot rocks. They move ‘em around a bit.”

“Sounds like something your kind came up with.”

“It’s quite nice, actually. They figured something out with that one. Haven’t got out much these thousands of years, ‘ave you?” Crowley couldn’t imagine for the eternal life of him what the Angel did with his time.

“I’ve gotten out plenty,” Aziraphale said sharply. He saw the Demon raise his eyebrows questioningly and dropped his tone as someone walked past. “Well, alright, maybe not quite as much as you, but you’re a Demon.” When no one was around to overhear, he cleared his throat and asked “well then, what other...earthy delights have you been filling your years with? Of the not-evil variety?”

Crowley smiled lazily, thinking about all the many answers to this question (and some of the evil ones as well.) His expression changed considerably when he suddenly connected all of those thoughts to the Angel beside him, who was watching him now with a curiosity perched between “worried” and “cautiously excited.”

“Oh well...” the Demon waved his hand in a manner that indicated nothing but a scramble to come up with appropriate answers. He’d never placed those thoughts next to one another, the Angel and the messy, carnal pleasures of the mortal world. Now that he had, his head had gone all...fizzy. Like a primary volcano project, bubbling over with the incompatibility of two chemicals. He had let the pause go on too long waiting for the concoction to settle. “Well, you know,” he said, searching, “goat’s cheese and the like.”

The Angel looked disappointed. “Crowley, you are perfectly aware that I have had goat’s cheese. Magnificent in a crepe, admittedly, but I thought-“

“And skydiving!” The demon continued, covering for the loud bubbling in his ears. It was getting louder, he thought.

“Crowley, we can fly.”

“Well not here, can we? Been about three thousand years since I really stretched ‘em out” he said, nodding towards his back.

“But you had them out just last wee-“

Desperately he dug into his reserves of human activity, avoiding all of those that were still sizzling and frothing. “Video games!”

Now that was something the Angel hadn’t considered. The humans did seem to take particular pleasure in passing far too many hours in front of a screen, but judging was for the Almighty and one might say the same about him and his more engrossing tomes.

Crowley relaxed, seeing the Angel considering this most recent reach. He hadn’t actually played anything beyond a few arcade games in the 80s, but anything that would take his mind somewhere else was fine with him. “Yeah, you know, they’re not all about killing people or stealing cars-“

“I’m sorry, are most about that?” The startled Aziraphale interrupted.

Crowley continued, ignoring him. “Some are about...I don’t know, growing corn or building big bloody apartment buildings or making cakes.”

“Making cakes, you say?” Aziraphale pondered this.

“We could make real cakes too, you know, not that hard, just butter and eggs, really.”

“Ah, I think flour comes in at some point.” He frowned, imagining it dusting his fine linens. “Best to leave it to the professionals, I should think. But these video games...I think I’d like to give it a go.”

Crowley watched the series of thoughts pass over the Angel’s face. The fizzing in his head was slowly dying down, being replaced by something far more concerning - a clarity. He stretched, using the time to think. “Well alright then,” he said finally, standing up. “Let’s get on with it.” He began walking in the direction of the nearby shops. Best to go with the distraction, after all.

Aziraphale quickly scrambled to follow after. “What, now? Shouldn’t we just nip in for some tea first? Maybe...wait for the evening, or, uhh, until we know what might happen next?”

Crowley smiled, not looking back. He raised his voice for the Angel to hear “six thousand years is plenty enough waiting for just about anything.” And as he heard the words leave his mouth, he wondered if he also had things he had been waiting to do for all that time.

The Angel trailed along, stammering something about the recent invention of electronics and not being able to wait for something that hadn’t even been invented yet, but Crowley was too busy sorting through what was left when the fizzing finally stopped completely.


	2. Fizzing and Vibrating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connections are made and cannot be...err...un-made.

It had been a disaster, of course. Crowley didn’t know where he got off, suggesting video games to a celestial do-gooder. He obviously hadn’t been in his right mind. Even spraying bugs in a gardening game had caused Aziraphale to tremble with uncertainty, all that useless morality leftover from being on the “good side.” Eventually he just shoved a mobile into the Angel’s hands with one of those flashy over-saturated puzzle games, which seemed to shut him up.

Hours later the Angel was still sunken into the sofa, using one delicate forefinger to slide pieces around the screen. Every once in a while he would look up brightly, showing off the screen. “Quite good, five thousand hearts. A little dog comes up, see him here. He’s got spots.”

The Demon was deep into his seventh bottle of vintage and trying to balance a stack of coins on the top of the most recently emptied. The wine was making the new pathways in his head stronger somehow, which had not been the desired effect. He looked up at the Angel’s most recent interjection. “Ah, very good, extremely good. Congratulations on this previously unimagined level of accomplifch...accomplishment.”

The Angel’s smile faltered. “Where did all these bottles come from? How long have you been drinking like that.”

“Oh, millennia,” he said, gesturing grandly and sending the bottle and its coins crashing to the floor.

Aziraphale fumbled for his time piece. “Quarter of eight, Crowley it’s been 4 hours! And I’ve just been sitting there, like...like...Heaven’s above, I can’t think of anything! I’ve been intellectually weakened by this wretched device.”

The Demon grinned and, slightly slurring, said “but you were so, so happy with the little-“ he hicupped “dog. And all the uhh...the ummm what’s it? The diamond city, yes, right, with the little singing flowers.”

“The Sapphire Valley,” Aziraphale answered haughtily and then, embarrassed “and they were birds.” 

“Birds!” Crowley said triumphantly, quickly jumping up from the floor, almost falling over before smoothly landing on the sofa. “Because you got so many stars!”

“Hearts.” Aziraphale didn’t know exactly why he was correcting the Demon, who was suddenly quite close to him. Trying to reclaim some dignity, maybe. “Well, either way, I don’t think this particular earthly pleasure is for me. I think I’ll stick to fine culinary experiences. Thank you all the same, I am sorry if I’ve wasted your afternoon.” He stood to fuss with some papers at his desk.

“No, no, no,” the Demon said, scrunching up his nose. “You ‘aven’t wasted anyfin-anything. Been havin’ a bloody good time watching you play that stupid game, an’I mean that. An’ you can’t give up, there’s plenty more than stupid ol’ video games. Have you tried breathing? Bloody good, breathing. Humans do it constantly, they seem to quite like it.” Rambling and drunk was his wheelhouse, and he was thrilled to be back in it.

Aziraphale was silent as he thought about this. He couldn’t shake the feeling of, well, disappointment. He’d been able to imitate Crowley’s inhumanly long breaths and sighs exactly when he’d been under cover in his body. Then he recalled The Demon had done a startlingly good performance himself. “You know full well I’ve been breathing all these years. You pretended to be me, remember, anxious huffs and all!”

“Course I know your stupid little breathy things,” Crowley jeered. But then, turning sincere and dripping with flattery, “You really are quite observant you know.”

“Wait one minute! What are you hiding from me Crowley? This is clearly all a ruse to distract me!” He gave a slight stomp. “What is it, then? What earthly delights are you keeping to your-oh.” He stopped, frozen. Something was happening inside his head.

Crowley knew the look on Aziraphale’s face and it caused a heat deep in his gut. “That’s right, thought about it...bout six hours ago, went all fizzy up ‘ere. Like mentos and...you know, fizzy.” He pantomimed with his hands. “Probably best not to dwell on it, I’ve taken care of all the dwelling, no need to thank me.”

Aziraphale stood, gaping. After a moment he tried his best to find some words. “Oh, well. For me...for me it’s more of a vibration, really,” he said, sitting back down slowly.

The two of them sat in silence for some time. “Should probably get my head about me, yeah?” 

“I do think that’d be rather wise,” the Angel agreed, and the wine bottles corked themselves as they slowly refilled.

Crowley groaned and shook his head as the world came back into full focus. Once the room had stopped spinning, he leaned on his knees and tented his fingers. “It’s like this. It’s never occurred to me that we,” he gestured vaguely between them. “I mean, I love you alright, that’s all well and bloody good. But then I had this, you know, wooooosh.”

“Are you sure you expelled all the wine my dear, you’re relying a lot on, err, noises and such.”

“Well there certainly aren’t words for it, are there?” He retorted, some mix between whining and growling. 

Aziraphale moved carefully, trying to look as casual as possible. “Maybe I’ll give it a go.” He looked immediately concerned that he had chosen to do so. He opened his mouth a few times to start, but nothing came out.

“Not so easy now is it?” Crowley taunted.

“Well just one moment.” The Angel closed his eyes and tried to make sense of it all. He opened them to see Crowley watching expectantly, as though he was really hoping for an answer. “I don’t believe we were, err, able to think about this,” he gestured, mumbling a few non-words in between. “You know. Not in our nature and what have you.”

“Well it’s in my nature,” Crowley quickly responded, with a note of bragging. “All well and good in my nature, shagging and all that.”

Aziraphale almost rolled his eyes, but thousands of years of politeness stopped him. The vibrating in his head was still going strong, somehow stronger after hearing the Demon reference shagging. His thoughts hadn’t fully landed on that yet. “Yes, well, I meant more in the...Angel and Demon type of way. Not in my nature at all, you know. But probably not in yours, either, to...consider the celestial in that way.”

“So what’s got that all buggered up?” Crowley asked, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. “Cause s’far as I can tell you just realized everything I drank to forget. So we’re both considering now, aren’t we then?” He stressed the word “considering” mockingly. Mocking who exactly he wasn’t sure.

The Angel’s mouth was dry. “What’s that you said, before? We’re as good as humans now?” He gave a stiff laugh, to show that he wasn’t entirely serious. “Maybe being on our own side opens up more human...inclinations.”

“You’re telling me that we have unlocked the mysteries of the universe because we’re more like people now? Well I don’t like that, I need a different explanation and another drink straight away.” Crowley grabbed for the nearest recently refilled bottle of wine.

“Not the mysteries of the universe, just...” he stumbled over this last part “well just...romantic thoughts, I suppose. Humans really like fighting for that kind of thing. It comprises most of what they think about, really.”

“Well it’s weird,” the Demon responded decidedly. “And I don’t care for it. By the way, I never actually said I loved you before just now, and I think you’re supposed to say it back. Polite and all.” He finished cooly.

Aziraphale sighed. “Well of course I love you, that seems quite obvious. This new way of thinking is making you ridiculous.”

“S’true” the Demon nodded. “I don’t like it, it’s all. Fizzy.”

“Yes, so you said.” Aziraphale tried to think of something to do, but without a book of answers he was lost. “Let’s say we put it out of our heads for now, shall we? Maybe stop by the Ritz to settle ourselves.”

“Alright, but if we find out we’re turnin’ mortal I take back the offer about skydiving.” Crowley said, standing and sauntering towards the door, letting the bottle of wine fall to the floor.


	3. Sunrise, Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They try, God love 'em. What exactly they're trying is unclear.

“So...tell me more about it, then.” Aziraphale said, attempting to be casual. It was the day after all the volcanoes and pipes and colliding universes and vibrating and fizzing. It was very unusual being able to think in ways you hadn’t just the morning before. It had happened a few times in his tenure on earth; the lying, the eating, the imagination, the naps. Each thing was strange and new, bringing entire sensations into being that he hadn’t even known to consider. It was like seeing a new color and trying to describe it.

“What?” Crowley gaped at him. He was opening the first bottle of the early evening. They had spent most of the day not exactly avoiding one another, but not being in the same place in a decisive way. He had thought about a lot of things in the interim, but the possibility of this conversation was not one of them.

Aziraphale shifted. “These...carnal experiences.”

“What d’you mean tell you about them?” He laughed. “I’m not exactly going to start erotic story telling. Might get jealous.” He looked over and winked.

The Angel hadn’t seen the wink but knew it was there behind those ridiculous sunglasses. He started to protest but caught himself, realizing that Crowley might actually be right. “A lot of them are there, then?” He smiled nervously through this, not exactly wanting an answer.

“Oh loads,” the Demon grinned, but stopped when he saw a shadow pass behind Aziraphale’s eyes. “I mean, not loads, not like that. Hardly any, in the grand scheme. When you really think about it.”

“I’m not sure I’d like to,” Aziraphale said, surprising himself at the admission. “But a nice scotch may do the trick.” He prepared his glass and took a heavy drink from it in quick succession. “With humans, I presume?”

Crowley flinched. “Not sure most demons could come up with much in that way. Mostly they just spent some time running around tryin’ to get human women to birth giants or something.”

Aziraphale had heard of this but he’d never given it much stock. “Ah, yes, and were they...successful in their endeavors?”

“See a bunch of half demon giants running around, do you? No, it was a complete disaster.”

“Evil harbors the seeds of its own destruction,” the Angel said, but it was mostly reflexive. “But you…?” 

“Think it’s one of those “going native” things everyone keeps talking about. Seems like a damn ugly expression, if you ask me.” 

“Yes, quite,” the Angel agreed.

There was a silence that followed. The Demon shifted uncomfortably, not sure what direction to go. “So, you wanted to know…” he waved his hand.

“Well, what it’s like, I suppose.” Aziraphale knew he wasn’t prepared for any answer that might come, but felt like it was necessary. He had to get a handle on this new color.

Crowley did some more shifting. He gritted his teeth for a bit. Several times he tried to start somewhere and abandoned it. “You see...it’s not very pleasant. In a lot of ways. But then it is pleasant, in one...err...very big way.” He looked at the Angel, hoping for an interruption, but got nothing. Aziraphale was patiently listening for once. “Oh, I dunno. It’s not just the big show, there’s lots of other little frilly things they do. Some are fine.”

Aziraphale gave Crowley more time to finish before seeing that was all he was going to get. “What about love?”

The Demon scoffed. “What about it, Angel? You ought to know a lot more about that than I do.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He tried to focus what he was thinking. “They say it’s an expression of love. Are you saying that it wasn’t?”

A long groan escaped the Demon. “Angel, you know as well as anyone that Demons don’t love. Especially not humans. The humans don’t even use it for that, anyway. No, it’s a sweaty thing that feels good, and that’s it alright?” And for the most part, he was telling the truth. 

“Well, at least one Demon loves. He said it to me not a full day ago.” And it had been odd. Aziraphale hadn’t given it too much thought as it was always so obvious to him, but upon further thought it was an unusual admission for the Demon.

“Right, well, that’s just you. Makes a lot of sense, if you think about it, us being the balancing forces of humanity and whatnot. Even night and day meet every sunrise and sunset, can’t keep their bloody hands off one another. Opposites attract and what have you.” He took a swig from the wine bottle, throwing his feet over the side of the sofa in a luxurious stretch. 

Aziraphale had also not given that much thought, why the love between them was so obvious and easy. It was almost a part of his nature. Maybe not even almost - maybe it had been programmed into him somehow, like the sunset was programmed into the earth. He blushed. He wasn’t sure why he was blushing. “Quite a nice way to think about it. More...romantic than I’d expect from you.”

“Yeah, well, seems as though the factory is open when it comes to that.” Crowley sighed. “Not sure we’re gonna get those doors shut any time soon. The real question, Angel, is what do you plan on doing about,” he waved his hand, “all this.”

Aziraphale blanked. In all of his musings the past day, he hadn’t actually thought that anything would have to be done about all this. “I don’t suppose we have to do anything about it.”

“Not very sporting of you,” the Demon noted. Both Crowley and Aziraphale heard the twinge of disappointment in his voice. They were equally surprised. 

“Unless you have…” Aziraphale trailed off. He once again had no idea what he was asking for, and wasn’t sure that he wanted whatever it was. It wasn’t as though he had discovered the Gavotte and then mastered every dance known to man the next day. 

Crowley threw up his hands, the bottle in his left sloshing a bit. “No, no, this is not on me, Angel. I’m not doing anything to make this all...fubbely.”

“Not a word,” Aziraphale said, focusing on anything else that he could.

“Well, either way, we just stopped the earth from ending, I’m taking a break from any major decision making.”

“I suppose we might...think about it?” Azirphale suggested. It was not a helpful statement, he knew, because they’d both been able to think about little else. But that was more in the abstract - he hadn’t put much thought into the particulars. “I mean, that we might give this new perspective a go.”

“What, just look at one another and think about all the things we ‘aven’t been thinking about all this time? Sounds pretty stupid to me.” But suddenly Crowley was sitting upright, as though it wasn’t very stupid at all. 

“Well yes but what if we tried?” He straightened in his chair. The Demon conceded with a muttered agreement, put the wine aside, and looked at Aziraphale with a sarcastic look plastered on his face. “I don’t see what the point is if you’re not going to take it seriously, Crowley. At least take off those damned sunglasses.”

Crowley sighed and pulled the sunglasses off, throwing them to the other side of the sofa. He didn’t like this feeling of sudden exposure, not with all the newness in the room. Looking at the Angel suddenly took effort. He glanced at him, looked away, and then took a deep breath and decided if ever there were a time to cast his nonchalance aside, it was now. He carefully looked up and examined Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale, in turn, looked at Crowley. There was a tight knot in his chest that he hadn’t felt before. That could go down in the “new” column. At first that was the only new thing - the Demon hadn’t changed. Or had he? Something serious was taking the place of all that sneering sarcasm. He looked contemplative. Genuine, somehow. 

Crowley, being more experienced in these things, was attempting to imagine Aziraphale in all the typical scenarios; drunk at a tavern, drunk at a pub, drunk at any number of weddings he’d found his way into over the years. He quickly realized this didn’t work, which caused a slight panic. If his previous knowledge - more limited than he’d ever let on but still more than nothing - wasn’t going to help him here, how was he to maintain his air of..well...knowing it all? The Angel’s eyes were examining him, and Crowley watched, wondering exactly what thoughts were coming to mind. Was he better at this? That couldn’t be right.

When you’ve been a sentient being for a very long time, time can quite easily distort itself around you. Something about the darkening room brought Aziraphale back to so many places at so many different times in human history. Watching Crowley risk his life over and over again for him, meetings at playhouses, battle fields, taverns. They were different upon rewatching, more...sentimental. At the time it had just been a relief. The only familiar face on earth. Now it felt staggering, considering it all at once.

It was at least an hour before Crowley thought of kissing the Angel, but he didn’t. It had come to him that Aziraphale’s face was a highlight reel of existence. Every moment worth mentioning was right there. Any time the Demon had felt something, truly felt something, it was with the Angel. When that realization hit, it finally clicked into place, and he had very suddenly wanted to leap forward and grab the Angel by his foppish lapels.

“I’m not sure this is working,” Aziraphale broke their contemplation. “I’m just thinking about the...love part. Which isn’t exactly new.” He looked upset by this.

“Feels new, in a way,” the Demon remarked weakly, pulling away from his thoughts. Apparently the Angel hadn’t had that same thought, that last one. “So what now? We spent, what,” he glanced at his watch, “an hour, just...looking.”

Aziraphale noticed a hoarseness in Crowley’s voice and he felt the knot in his chest tighten. “Yes, there are some new...sensations. I’m afraid I don’t know what any of them mean, though.”

To Crowley, it was obvious. The Angel was trying to learn to swim by thinking about the water. His inexperience made even the most basic of considerations completely impossible. Crowley searched for some memory of the physical as a reference and was rewarded. “You remember there at the end of the world, the bit where you reached out and took my hand?”

“No, I’ve forgotten,” Aziraphale said, and they both grinned at the surprising sarcasm. “Of course I remember, the world was ending. You are my...counterpart in a way.” 

“Yes, night and day and all,” the Demon said. He was thinking of sunsets. He pushed on, “well maybe we try that again, just less world-endy.”

Aziraphale nodded automatically. Something inside him had started at the suggestion. This was yet another new sensation, his body answering before his mind had a say. “So, shall I…”

“No, you stay right where you are,” the Demon said, jumping up. He wasn’t going to give the Angel a chance to start pacing and muttering. He sat on the floor in front of Aziraphale’s chair. “Now,” he said, gathering himself. He stretched a hand out, palm towards the Angel, fingers splayed. “Put your hand in mine, then.” 

Aziraphale did as he was asked, lacing his fingers with Crowleys, palms pressed together. He watched their hands for something, a spark maybe, but just saw the Demon’s thin fingers wrapped around his own more...considerable ones. He looked contemplatively at them, and then back to Crowley. The spark was nowhere to be seen, but he had felt it, just there, when he saw the yellow eyes surveying him. Crowley’s face looked hopeful. It was crushing and beautiful all at once, this fallen Angel radiating with something so...good. He felt their skin touching in such an insignificant way, except that it felt like the whole world was right there between their palms. “Oh,” he breathed. 

Crowley almost exploded at the sound. His skin was buzzing and his insides were churning. It wasn’t like some sordid, rushed dealing with a human out of boredom. It felt like...something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Like a prayer. And with that one soft “oh” the Angel had told him he felt it too. Felt something, at least. He wanted this, he wanted to spring up and take the Angel’s face in his hands, and then so much more. But one phrase was sticking in his head, tucked away for this exact occasion.  _ You go too fast for me. _ He stilled, letting this be enough, in case it was all there ever would be. His sudden ability to wait struck him. He rested his forehead on the Angel’s knee.

They sat like that for a long time. Longer than the looking, Aziraphale knew. He couldn’t imagine this is how it had been with Crowley and the humans, largely in part due to the lack of patience in humans. An understandable lack, after all, what with their terribly short shelf life. He noticed a shaking in the Demon’s shoulders. “Crowley, are you alright?”

The Demon looked up, his yellow eyes rimmed red. “Sorry, sorry,” he pulled back his hands to wipe at his face, and then missing Aziraphale’s touch, rested his hand on the knee where his head had been. “Bloody awkward. Not the hands, just…” he gave a sniffling laugh. “She loved me once, you know. Not this kind, but it feels a lot alike.” 

The Angel thought about this. It was only a few leaps to the meaning and he got there quickly. “Oh, Crowley,” he spoke softly. “She still does.” These were empty words as Aziraphale had no way of knowing what Her feelings were. But in that moment, he felt as though he loved Crowley enough for God and all of Heaven. 

“No, but falling…” Crowley didn’t know why he wanted to say this. He had never wanted to revisit those feelings, so why now? “It’s not like anything. It’s hollow. It’s an emptiness. Hurts like hell of course, mind the pun. But after that, part of you is gone. And that’s what it is. You can’t feel Her love, can’t feel love at all. Not like you, feeling it in any ol’ bloody town.”

“The town that raised the antichrist can hardly be called any old town,” Aziraphale added and immediately regretted it. He understood, or at least, could consider the meaning of this. Losing that was unthinkable.

Crowley looked tired, somehow. Weakened. “But I feel it now. Not Her, but you. I can feel it welling up like a bloody reservoir. I said it yesterday like it was obvious, but it hadn’t been obvious. Not for long, anyhow.” 

Having felt out of his element for quite some time, the Angel finally had steady footing here. “So you know the physical. And I, err, don’t. And I know the...emotional, as it were, and you are less…” he tried to find a way to say it delicately.

“I’m an absolute mess with that stuff,” Crowley supplied.

“Maybe we can help one another, then.” Aziraphale didn’t know what this meant but he knew that it was the right thing. He covered the Demon’s hand with his own. “I’d quite like to learn something new, after all. And dancing seems...less pressing.”

Crowley laughed, mostly at all the lewd wordplay that he was somehow keeping to himself. He considered what the Angel was saying and knew that it would be difficult. Holding hands had brought the fall back to the forefront of his mind, what would anything more do? Added to that, Crowley wasn’t sure he even knew what to teach anymore. “Sure, yeah,” he eventually got out. He placed his other hand over Aziraphale’s, grasping it against his own shortly before letting go and pulling away. “But let’s maybe take a break for now?”

Aziraphale was relieved at the suggestion. A relief that was shadowed by the sudden longing for Crowley’s hands to be back in his. “Ah, yes, of course. Back off to your place, I suppose?” 

“You havin’ a laugh?” Crowley responded, lifting himself from the floor and searching for the abandoned wine bottle. “I’ve barely had a drink. Don’t know that I can even find my flat from here sober. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Aziraphale swelled with happiness at this, the smile of a gracious host back on his face immediately. “Not at all. I should like the company.” And this was an understatement so severe he felt the somewhat familiar twinge of lying. 


	4. Rising and Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realms collide.

Aziraphale was happy. He was delicately arranging clotted cream onto his scone while listening to Crowley complain about London traffic, the familiar sounds of the Ritz tinkling and bustling around them. Even the Demon’s complaints had a pleasant note to them, like he was happy to have something to gripe about. “Well, you must thank Adam some time, for getting you back into the mix.”

The Demon laughed. “He probably doesn’t even remember us, too busy running wild like a proper human child.” He reached over and dipped a finger into the Angel’s strawberry preserves. When Aziraphale eyed him, he popped his finger out of his mouth. “What? All the most important people have their food checked for poisons.”

“I may start poisoning preemptively, then.” He smacked Crowley’s hand when it darted out for seconds. “Should we do something this evening?” He asked, and then when he saw the suddenly stark face of the Demon added, “not like that. A stroll, maybe. Some music?”

Crowley thought about it. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Not the stroll, of course, but I’ll never turn down a drink over something classical.”

Aziraphale wiped his hands on the linen napkin. “We could of course try something new.” He tried to make this sound innocent, but they both knew what he was getting at.

The Demon kept his cringe internal, knowing that Aziraphale would take it to heart. The idea of slowly crossing emotional barriers, painstakingly charting out the borders of what either of them could take, it was too much. When this first started he’d assumed it would quickly end with the Angel pinned against a wall, and instead he’d held Crowley’s hand as he cried. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about all that.” He hadn’t, but he was better at thinking on his feet anyway.

The Angel put his napkin back over his lap, smoothing it primly. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking maybe we should just see what happens.” It was almost like the rush of cancelled plans of war. Alleviation from all the pressure. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner?

“Just...see what happens?” Aziraphale paused. “The problem with that might be that I don’t know what ‘just happens.’”

Crowley grinned at him. “You’re tellin’ me that you’ve never seen a romance? Casablanca or Bridget Jones or... I dunno. Lady and the Tramp.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but give an abrupt laugh at the image of Crowley going to see a romance. “Bridget Jones, you say?” He looked down at his scone, anxious to get this conversation over with so he could return to it. “Of course I’ve seen a romance. But those are humans. And, well, especially human dogs. Something tells me they haven’t got much to lend to us in the way of...instruction.”

Crowley groaned, annoyed. “No, I mean, proper _moments_. Those films are full of that. Anyway, it was just a thought.”

“A thought I will give its due consideration,” Aziraphale promised. “But for now, would you kindly keep your fingers out of my jam?”

Crowley nodded a “right then,” but he was already looking for his opportunity to strike. The Angel’s sweet tooth was wearing off on him.

After a particularly nice lunch, the two did in fact take a stroll. It was too early to begin drinking and the day was yet another lovely one. In fact, the Angel noticed, there hadn’t been a bad spot of weather since the narrowly avoided end of the world. They walked around the park and through some of their lesser traveled streets, talking about this and that. Aziraphale was delighted by the fact that nothing between them had changed. Apart from the obvious, of course. But the tangible, the routine, went on as ever.

They eventually retired to the bookshop. Crowley didn’t care to have the Angel round his own flat too often. For all of Aziraphale’s primness, the sterile setting made him seem out of place. His was a presence that required upholstery and etched glass and dust particles floating through sunbeams. Crowley thought so, anyway.

Aziraphale busied himself with lighting lamps and moving papers aside to make room while Crowley stood about with his hands in his pockets. The room felt different, now, from when he’d stumbled out of it drunkenly at some unholy hour of the morning. He could look around and see the places they had been the night before. The typical drinking and cajoling, but more than that, what had come before. There he was, struggling to make eye contact from the couch. Searching the Angel’s face and finding more than he had bargained for. And there, at the foot of the chair, kneeling in front of the Angel, shaking as the warmth of his hand opened a floodgate.

“Err. Just, anywhere, then?” He’d never asked for a seat before.

The Angel looked over at the unexpected question. “Well yes, of course…” He saw Crowley staring at the chair cautiously. He knew, of course, what the Demon was remembering. “Oh, my dear,” he tutted, moving towards him and then stopping when Crowley looked up. He had removed his sunglasses upon entering and Azirpahle could see the expression on his face plainly - some mix of confusion and longing and sudden fear. He chanced a step forward to see the reaction. Crowley didn’t move away, but he did audibly swallow. He stepped forward again, and then again.

Crowley was frozen to the spot. He didn’t know what had come over him. And now, Aziraphale was moving towards him, his face filled with concern and understanding and that blasted love. “I…” he tried and failed to speak. There the Angel was, a heartbeat away from him.

“I don’t mean to force a moment upon us so soon,” Aziraphale heard himself say softly. “But if it isn’t too much of an imposition, would you show me how I might express this...rather burning desire to reassure you?”

And there the moment was, as if he had wished it into existence. “I don’t know what will happen, Angel,” Crowley whispered, leaning his face towards Aziraphale’s.

“All the better that we find out quickly,” he breathed in response. As if pulled by invisible strings, he raised his hand to rest on the Demon’s chest.

Crowley instantly raised his own hand to cover the Angel’s, directly over his corporeal heart. His other hand found its way to Aziraphale’s cheek. There was a pause there, one that seemed to go on forever, where the Angel looked up at him, mouth parted in want. He would plaster every part of his broken soul with that image, he thought, until he rose back up to the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Angel, meanwhile, looked into Crowley’s slitted eyes and knew that if he had to fall straight down into hell, the love he saw there would sustain him through an eternity of flames.

Crowley swallowed back his fear and softly pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. The Angel sighed into his mouth, pressing in harder than Crowley had been ready for. It was like melting, it was like fireworks, it was like anything but falling. Falling could never be the word for what this was. He felt the Angel’s arm wrap around him, pulling him closer, their free hands clutched between their chests. The closest to Heaven he’d been for centuries, and better even than he remembered. Better, it was possible, than it had ever been.

Aziraphale gripped at Crowley’s jacket, deepening the kiss instinctively, sinking into the depths of the Demon, and perhaps, Hell itself. The fire in his body was a pure pleasure he hadn’t known for all his time in existence, and he wanted to sink lower.

“Hello?” A voice called out from the front room of the shop. The both froze, breaking the kiss, breathing deeply against one another.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and brushed his cheek against the Demon’s, determined to take in one last sensation. “I didn’t lock the bloody door,” the Angel muttered in frustration.

“Hello?” The voice came again.

“Be right back, then.” The Angel stepped away from Crowley and dressed his face in a pert smile as he briskly walked to the front room. “Yes, Hello! How might I be of service?”

Crowley collapsed onto the sofa, his face landing in an overly-embroidered pillow. He bit it to muffle his scream.


	5. The Answer to Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An entirely effable plan is made.

Crowley was not happy. He had gotten used to things going his way and currently things were not. One thing being that he’d actually let himself think about the whole situation. After unstuffing his mouth from what he would forever think of as his suffering pillow, he’d plucked the stray embroidery thread from his teeth and had a think.

First, he didn’t remember the last day he hadn’t seen the Angel. When was that going to end? They‘d done well with a few hundred years pacing between meetings. Can’t just see the same person every day of eternity, he thought. Why were they in such a hurry? A few days was the blink of his eyes.

Second, there was no imaginable situation wherein he would willingly go a day without seeing Aziraphale.

The think had been contradictory, if not completely useless.

Another thing that had gone decidedly not his way was that all of this feeling was turning him into a sniveling mess. It was difficult, and Crowley didn’t like difficulty. He liked being the breeziest bastard in the room, which is easy to be when you can change the world to avoid what needs avoiding. Aziraphale had practically kissed him first, it was a bloody nightmare. Except that it wasn’t a nightmare at all, more like the most exceptional dream he’d ever had. The contradictions were endless.

When the Angel finally returned, glowing from the joy of another book not sold, he took one look at Crowley and said “a thousand apologies, I beg you to not be so cross.”

“I’m not cross, I’m just sober. And newly unemployed.”

Aziraphale sat in his chair and poured both of them some scotch. Crowley sat up to accept, and the Angel tilted his glass. “Here’s to unemployment. May it be long and not end in complete annihilation.”

“Definitely something I can drink to,” the Demon replied, emptying the glass completely in one gulp. “Twice, actually,” he said, reaching out for more. Aziraphale happily obliged, never much minding Crowley’s nature of overindulgence.

“Feeling better then, are you?” The Angel was not exactly thrilled to have been interrupted but was glad to see Crowley back to slouching and sneering. He’d been so overtaken when they’d first come into the room that Aziraphale wondered if he would recover.

  
Crowley sat down his glass and laced his fingers behind his head in a stretch. “Right as rain,” he said airily. He considered that if he leapt over and kissed Aziraphale right now he could take charge of the situation, but it didn’t feel right. An idea was forming right along with the blooming warmth of the scotch, however, and he thought he’d give it a go. “What’d you say to us getting very, very drunk. Just completely bollocksed. And trying what we did over there again.” 

“Wouldn’t that...I don’t know. Cheapen the whole experience?”

“Yes!” Crowley cheered, smiling. “Yes Angel, it would, but I need to haggle it down a bit anyway. It’s got sharp edges and they keep cutting me open. I need this to go slower without it actually stopping, d’you understand that?”

The Angel nodded. “More so than anyone, I suppose.” Their friendship, their tête-à-tête, always moved too fast for him in the past. It made him think of the questions he kept from Heaven and his place in the plan and all of that. He’d had to take leave many times. Added to that was a fire in him that had been lit when the Demon pressed their lips together that he very much hoped to fan. “Yes, I think it might be a good idea. Worth a try at the very least.”

Crowley grinned. Now this he could handle.

In three hours time, the two were laughing uncontrollably about an innkeeper they’d both happened upon in the fifteenth century. Crowley could barely get through describing how her false eye had fallen into his ale before Aziraphale started into his own shockingly similar experience. They’d seemingly forgotten they didn’t have to breath as they wheezed through their laughter.

They were sitting on the floor, backs against the sofa, passing a wine bottle between them. After some deep breaths to calm the himself, the Demon looked at Aziraphale, who was only slightly doubled, and grinned as wide as the English channel. His love was all consuming, but without the sharp edges of sober realizations - It was just there for him to revel in. “Drinking really is the answer to any-everythin’” he declared. “Look’t you. Just, fuckin’ look’t you.”

“What?” the Angel asked, the remnants of laughter still at his smiling lips. “Have I got something on me?”

“S’bout to be me,” Crowley grinned, but made no effort to move. He’d been making innuendo for a good hour now, and it was starting to come naturally. He did, however, lazily stretch out his hand between them.

Aziraphale took his hand and laced their fingers. They sat for a minute in pleasant silence before he felt the laughter coming back. “Did I...did I ever tell you about her daughter? The innkeeper, her daughter-“

“She had that bloody rat!” Crowley howled. “Wonder...wonder the whole town didn’t get the black death with that filthy...what...what was it?”

“Private Squeaks,” Aziraphale could barely get out. “Lousy with infected fleas, I had to save the lot of them.”

“You saved the fleas?”

“No, the town, you complete and utter fool,” the Angel managed before losing his composure entirely.

When the fit of laughter died down again, Crowley pulled on the Angel’s arm. “C’mere,” he demanded, smiling freely. The Angel leaned over and rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “S’cuse me,” the Demon said with fake annoyance. “Oh, sorry, you’re new at this and all, bloody come here.” He said it with some effort while moving himself and the Angel closer, Aziraphale now nestled tightly against him. “There, now that’s how s’done.” He rested his chin on the Angel’s head and wrapped an arm around him. “You’re my best friend, y’know that.”

Aziraphale smiled, nuzzling into Crowley’s chest. He could smell the posh cologne the Demon conjured up daily, could feel taut skin through his shirt. He was so throughly satisfied.

“Hello,” Crowley said loudly, drawing it out for attention.

“You’re my best friend too,” Aziraphale quickly responded. “Sorry, this is quite nice. Could stay like this for eternity.”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s head. “Me too, Angel. But what would be the fun in that?” He shifted, and the Angel moved back to allow their eyes to meet. It didn’t last long - they fluttered shut when Crowley leaned in to kiss him. It wasn’t like earlier, when everything had been steeped in their fears. Crowley kissed Aziraphale with increasing hunger, feeling desire and love mix together in a harmony that hadn’t been present before. He wanted the Angel, needed him, and had him right there.

Aziraphale followed every movement, the taste of Crowley’s mouth driving him forward. He grasped at the Demon, wanting to be closer, wanting to be consumed. When the Demon broke away for just a breathe and growled “sofa” the Angel scrambled up without parting from him. Crowley straddled the Angel, running his hands ceaselessly over his chest and shoulders as he kissed his mouth, his jaw, his neck, his mouth again.

Crowley was sick with passion, unable to stop himself. He found himself fumbling with the Angel’s many buttons and fastenings, delighted by Aziraphale’s hands deftly handling his own. Freed of their shirts, they explored one another’s skin with desperate hands and mouths.

After some time, Aziraphale put a hand to the Demon’s chest and pushed him back slightly, earning a desperate whine. “Let me just...I want to see you.” He ran his outstretched hand over the Demon’s chest. “I have needed you for so long,” he said simply, tilting his head up for a short kiss. “Since the dawn of time.”

Crowley looked at the Angel, thinking about the dawn of time. “S’bout the time I started needing you, turns out.” And it was true. He had survived all these years not by the grace of God, but by the grace of one of Her angels. The Angel underneath him, whose hands were slowly tracing along his skin. He was the only thing that ever mattered. “I love you, Aziraphale,” he said, letting go of any fears the drink hadn’t taken care of.

“And I, you,” the Angel said, eyes brimming with sincerity. Crowley, full to bursting with the feeling of it, leaned in and kissed Aziraphale again.

And that’s when all Hell broke loose. Heaven too, for that matter.


	6. Making it Official

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A message delivered, a note received.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” This was Crowley, who was at present splayed on the floor of the bookshop, having been quite literally thrown there by Aziraphale. Not in the fun, sexy kind of way. In the “I have just experienced a terror I have never known, please don’t prevent me from running for my life” type of way. “Ay! You mind turnin’ that down?” he shouted into the blinding light that had suddenly filled the shop. He looked over at the horrified Angel, who was begging the Demon to shut up with his eyes. “What? They know full well what’s been goin’ on down ‘ere. Neither of us look good in a billion watts, love. First thing’s first.” 

Aziraphale tried to speak and found he didn’t even know where to begin. He wondered if he should cover himself but that would require moving, which was out of the question. Here it was, the day had finally come. After all the indiscretions against Heaven, this was what it took to fall. Aziraphale took in a shaky breath and waited. 

Nothing. 

“We didn’t even do anything, not really,” the Demon sneered. He looked to the Angel. “Like Hell I’m facing oblivion when I haven’t even gotten into your trousers.” Crowley stood up from the floor, head tilted towards the ceiling. “Hello!” The Demon called “Hello?” He waited a beat. “See, no one’s even bloody there. Celestial pocket dial, probably.” This was followed by a deep, primitive scream. The Demon thought briefly that it was terribly unnecessary theatrics, before realizing that he was the one screaming.

Aziraphel found himself unglued, rushing to the Demon’s side. Crowley began writhing on the floor where he had once again fallen, clutching at his skin as though trying to hold it onto his body. The Angel helplessly grasped at him, trying to find the focus of the pain. He didn’t notice the floor around them starting to churn until it had fallen away, leaving them both on an island in a flaming pit. 

The Angel hoisted the Demon into his lap, clutching him tightly as the tremors started to slow. It was useless, as his own had just begun. He felt fire rip through him. It was though he were being torn apart. He choked out a sob, keeping his arms wrapped around the unconscious Demon. If this is how it ended, at least Crowley would be the last thing he would ever see. 

And then it was over as suddenly as it began. The two laid in a heap on the floor, unmoving, lights and fires extinguished around them. At the front of the shop there was a sound of smashing glass that someone would have heard, had anyone been able to listen. 

It was two hours before Crowley came to. He blinked his eyes open, taking stock of his surroundings. He slowly pushed himself up, Aziraphale’s slumped body falling to the side. The Demon started pawing at him immediately. “Aziraphale? Aziraphale!” he called with increasing desperation. “If you take him from me I will come after you with everything I have,” he idly threatened the ceiling. He wanted to sound vengeful, but it came out weak. Aziraphale was everything he had. Aziraphale, who was starting to moan softly with the effort of coming back into the realm of the living. “Aziraphale!” Crowley gasped, holding the Demon’s face with both hands. 

The Angel’s eyes opened. For a moment he could only see Crowley, haloed by the lamplight, and suddenly thought that he must be in Heaven. But that wasn’t right. The cold halls of Heaven had never been his paradise - so, he realized, he must still be on Earth. “What…?” he managed softly.

“I don’t fucking know, Angel. I don’t bloody know at all.” He clutched Aziraphale until the Angel got his wits about him and sat up, both of them sitting on what had once been an island bathed in the lights of Heaven, surrounded in the fires of Hell. Now it was just an ugly throw rug the Angel had spilled countless cocoas onto. 

“I…” The Angel tried to recall what happened. “I do believe you shouted at God. Quite drunkenly. And then mentioned getting into my trousers.”

Crowley thought about that. “Well, least everyone’s on the same page now.” He stood, offering a hand to help Aziraphale. “We’re alive, at least, that’s gotta count for something.”

“You don’t think…” Aziraphale said, startled. He looked to his desk across the room and snapped the roll top closed, frivolous miracles be damned. “Not mortal, then. What a relief.”

“Immortality snatching not it, then. Seems more like a heavenly cock block, if you ask me. What’s your sort’s typical type of punishment these days? Should we be looking for boils or...frogs or something?”

The Angel realized that the Demon had been in torturous pain by the time the fires had come through. “Yours were here too,” he filled him in. “Burning pit and all that. That’s when I…”

Crowley did not like this news. “See anyone, then?”

“Not a soul. Or, er, not a being,” Aziraphale corrected. They stood in silence. 

“I feel fine,” Crowley finally said. “I mean, don’t feel any more damned. No holier, either. They just having a fit? That was the last straw for them, was it, us getting out of our shirts? Seems too bloody pious, even for Heaven.”

“I don’t know that there’s any such thing,” Aziraphale said. “But I will agree that the timing of whatever this message is seems somewhat arbitrary. I’m going to...put on a shirt, and then some tea.”

“You do that,” the Demon replied, laughing at the absurdity of it. “I’m going to stand here and wonder what in the bloody...fucking...fuck just happened.” 

Aziraphale raised a hand to cup the Demon’s cheek briefly. “We’re alright, that’s what matters.” He quickly dressed and headed to the front room for his favorite cups, the ones he only used on important occasions. Crowley had said he felt fine and the Angel had to admit that he did too. As certain as he had been that this was going to be the Big One, the Fall he had been expecting for so long, he felt just fine. A bit groggy, admittedly, but no gaping holes where his soul should go. 

As he turned to head back, he noticed the light reflecting off shards of glass on the carpet. The nearby window had been smashed by what seemed to be a large rock. Aziraphale approached cautiously, setting the cups on a stack of books. He picked up the rock, turned it over, and saw the note precariously rubber-banded to it. 

__ St. Paul’s.  
_ 7 p.m. Tuesday  
_ __ A.Y.

“A.Y.,” he said, thinking as he turned the stone in his hands. “Adam Young,” he answered himself, looking around as though Adam may be hiding somewhere in the room. What could Adam want with them now? Should he tell Cr-

“Angel!” Crowley shouted from the back, interrupting Aziraphale’s thoughts. “Angel, I think you’re going to want to see this!” 

Aziraphale slipped the note into his pocket and hurried back into the room. Crowley stood still shirtless at the center of the room, now with wings outstretched. The Angel gasped. He briefly considered how attractive it was, Crowley’s tight muscles framed by the downy feathers. He would have liked to see it another time, when he could spend time appreciating the form that was so often hidden. Except something was not right. Extremely, very, exceptionally not right. “What does it mean?” he breathed. 

Crowley looked to him, flanked by wings as grey as the clouds God used to flood Her own creation. “I think our side’s just become official.” 

Outside, Aziraphale heard the first clap of thunder since the end of the world.


	7. Two Halves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poorly behaved children.

No one was quite well. Aziraphale was feeling sick from the idea that this whole apocalypse business refused to be put to rest. Crowley was feeling sick because they were tramping behind an 11 year old to the hallowed grounds of the largest church in all of London. Adam was feeling sick because he had just finished four sleeves of biscuits while his parents were out to a show enjoying their London holiday.

“Why is the antichrist taking us to a church?” Crowley growled at Aziraphale, who had convinced the Demon to come along. “What’s he bloody up to? And why’d he call for a ride? Seems like most secret meetings don’t involve picking someone up from a comics shop.”

Aziraphale wanted to defend Adam but didn’t really have the information to do so. He was happy to see the child again, but it was bizarre. “He’s eleven. And is he the Antichrist, after everything? I’m not so sure.” 

“You still an Angel? Am I still a demon? I have a feeling if we answer one of those, we’ve answered all of ‘em. But either way I’m not going into that bleeding church. Across the street, no closer.”

Was he still an Angel? He still had his miracles, but after an inspection of his wings the previous day, Crowley had declared them “a few shades south of celestial.” They hadn’t changed as dramatically as Crowley’s, though they were plainly different than before. Aziraphale wasn’t thrilled with this discovery but the Demon’s lightening feathers caused him such inexplicable joy that his own wings darkening slightly couldn’t leave him too concerned. 

“We can just go in the front, then,” Adam said, looking at the cathedral from across the street. 

Crowley laughed shortly. He had told them both that he wasn’t going without an explanation. “Like hell I’m going in there.”

Adam looked over his shoulder and grinned, not stopping. “Not like hell, actually. Not if I’m right about this.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, eyebrows raised. The Angel gave him a “what are you going to do” shrug. They proceeded across the street.

“I don’t like this,” Crowley muttered as he stepped onto the threshold behind the others and felt nothing - not even a vague menacing feeling. “I mean, we all saw it coming but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Adam bounded up the steps and the enormous doors came open as though they were outside a grocery store. His sneaker laces trailed behind him as he made his way through the front of the building, looking for something. Aziraphale watched carefully. He could see that Crowley was walking at a kind of slant, but he was obviously not in pain. Adam was on a mission. What mission? Aziraphale was getting deeply suspicious, so when he noticed Adam dart his hand out towards something and then spin around to face them, he gave a yelp and jumped in front of them Demon. 

In turn, he got a fine misting of water to the face. “Aww, you’re no fun.” Adam pouted, hands still wet from the water of the font - holy water, the Angel knew immediately - he had just flicked their way.

Crowley, however, had already run back to the doorway and was making his way down the stairs, panicked sounds all the way. Aziraphale sighed at Adam. “Not a very diplomatic way to make your point,” he said curtly before chasing after Crowley.

“I’m not working with that damned child,” Crowley screamed behind him. “Children are like bloody animals!” He reached the Bentley parked at the end of the street and opened the door to get in. Aziraphale, having caught up, put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder to stop him. Crowley slammed the door shut again in anger. “No, I’m not doing it, s’not funny. I get it, I’m not a demon anymore, but that’s no excuse. HE didn’t know that. Fuck!” He pounded the top of the Bentley in frustration. He wasn’t ready to give up what he had been for thousands of years. Not now, not like this, with some smarmy pre-teen splashing the proof on him.

“So.” Aziraphale said, watching the Demon closely. “It got on you, did it?”

“Course it did!” Crowley was still shouting. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Adam said when he caught up, hands up in a display of innocence. “I knew it wouldn’t hurt you, or at least I was almost certain. I though it would be funny. I won’t do it again.”

“Again?” Crowley seethed. “You’re bloody lucky your father’s who he is, or I’d have wrung your neck by now.” 

“My father is at a theatre with my mum right now and he’s not going to stop you from doin’ it.” Adam responded.

“You know what I mean you small bastard,” Crowley spat.

Aziraphale put a hand on his arm “Maybe we swear less around the child,” he suggested. Crowley said some select words that made it clear this was not the choice he was going with.

Adam looked upset. To Aziraphale it was very obvious that the boy hadn’t meant any harm. “I really am sorry,” he repeated. “I knew it wouldn’t hurt you because I remembered it. And I had to be sure I was remembering properly. I coulda saved you if I was wrong, you know.”

“You remembered it?” Aziraphale questioned, lightly holding the still furious Crowley back with one arm. “What do you mean you remembered it?”

Adam kicked at some pebbles. “Y’know, I remembered it, even though I wasn’t there. Or won’t be there? I don’t know how it works but I knew I should tell the two of you. It was important. Will be important. Somefin’ like that.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Heavens above, he’s a prophet now.” 

“He’s an arsehole is what he is,” Crowley grumbled. 

“Well I’m rubber, you’re glue.” Adam stuck out his tongue. 

“You’re the bloody glue!” Crowley yelled, lunging weakly from behind Aziraphale.

Aziraphale continued to act as a barrier while thinking about what this meant. “So, what exactly have you remembered?”

Adam eyed Crowley before answering. “Not much. Lots of it doesn’t make any kind of sense. Savin’ the world and everythin’. You guys are there. Not sure I am. But you’re killin’ demons,” he said, pointing at Crowley. “And you’ve got that big blazin’ sword back.” This with a nod to the Angel. Adam didn’t include that he had seen Aziraphale with that sword plunged into another Angel, however, because even at age 11 he could tell when information might be too much for someone.

“And you’re sure that’s what we’re doing? Saving the world?” Aziraphale asked. Adam nodded. “What else?”

“S’gonna take me a bit to sort all of it out. I was thinking we might...Well it’d be good if we kept in touch. You’re kind of like my weird uncles, really. If you think about it.” 

Aziraphale puffed up a little at this. “Oh, you missed us, dear boy.” 

Adam made a face. “Did not! I don’t even know you, and he seems unhinged if you ask me. Still a demon, though, I figure.”

Crowley had started thinking up more swears to fling at the impossible youth, something really memorable, but faltered at the last statement. “What’s that now?”

Adam nodded. “I figure that’s part of the game. You two bein’ best friends or boyfriends or whatever you are.” Adam stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes. “It’s like you’re each half a human, kinda obvious, really. Wouldn’t be fun if She went changin’ that. I’m not sure I like Her game, to tell the truth. Too grown up for me, with all the killin’ and stuff. I’m keeping my friends out of it, anyway.” 

“Err- game?” Aziraphale asked.

“And another thing is, well, I think the two of you are weird. Some kind of snake, you are.” Adam jutted his chin at Crowley, who gritted his teeth. “But we’re all pretty odd, on this team.”

“I really insist that you tell me more about this game,” Aziraphale begged.

“So you in or what? She likes us, you know. I’m pretty sure we’re Her favorite gang. The world’s pretty good, ‘f ya ask me.”

Crowley laughed, realizing what the child was saying. “See, Angel? I told you it’s our own side.”

“Oh, don’t you go actin’ like this is your team and you’re in charge. This is all our team, and you got picked last. Why d’you think she did that to you, made you normal like that and not gonna shrivel up at some holy water? ‘Cause you’re on the team now.” Adam looked proud at this, as though he’d already declared himself the captain. “You’ll be on it longer than any of us, s’all.”

Crowley tilted his head in thought. “I always figured it was more like a...game of cards.”

“Grown ups are so boring.” Adam rolled his eyes. 

“The ineffable game, then.” Aziraphale said, considering. “Actually it explains quite a lot.”

Crowley looked to Adam. “So what do you need from us?”

Adam shrugged. “I need to get back to my hotel or I’m gonna be grounded ‘til the end times. But maybe you‘d know what to do with these memories? I just think we should stay in touch is all. Have team meetings once in a while.”

“Seems very wise,” Aziraphale agreed. “We’re both very thankful for you coming to us with this.”

“Seems like this could have been a phone call,” Crowley mumbled.

“You think I’m trustin’ a snake man because I remembered something that didn’t happen to me? You’re out of your mind. Had to see it for myself.”

“Err, what with you being a child and all, how will we have these meetings?” Aziraphale asked.

“Don’t worry about all that, I can make it work. I’ll just ring you at the shop.”

“Could we keep the smashing our windows with rocks to a minimum? Took hours to patch it up,” Crowley lied.

Adam grinned. “Kinda cool, wasn’t it? Like in the movies? Your eyes are weird, anyone ever told you that?”

Aziraphale suggested they all leave before anyone decided to get concerned about two men talking to a child outside of a car, one of them screaming obscenities and threats. 

After dropping Adam off, Aziraphale and Crowley sat in the Bentley on the street, not moving. They both knew there was a conversation that needed to be started, but they were both very tired and hoping the other would start it. 

Aziraphale gave in first. “Well. This is an unexpected turn of events.”

“You really think?”

“Hmm. I think it’s probably...good. There’s less to be worried about.”

“Oh, us leading an army to save the world isn’t concerning to you? That’s good, makes me feel loads better about it.”

“Ah, yes, the war. After what’s gone on lately I’m not feeling too terrible about being...cut from the team, as one might say. I was thinking more about us. We seem to be in Her good graces, for the most part. I still truly don’t understand the timing of all this. You were right, nothing had really gone on.”

Crowley stretched out and fidgeted, trying to avoid this part. He’d had a lot of time to think about it. “Yeah, I know what happened there I think.” Aziraphale looked at him, confused. “Well I think...I think thats’got something to do with love.” 

Aziraphale didn’t look convinced. “But we loved one another before that.”

“Listen, I just think it has something to do with that.” Crowley didn’t go on. In his head he was trying to explain the feeling he’d had that night. Just enough alcohol, just enough laughing like old friends, just enough casual flirting. He’d been unafraid. He’d been happy and in love and not worried about anything, the most un-demonly combination of things imaginable. That’s when She’d changed them. Or that’s when something changed them, who knew if Adam was right. 

“Care to think out loud?” The Angel asked him.

“No,” Crowley answered. “But trust me. She got it right, if it was Her.”

Aziraphale nodded, extremely curious but too polite to press. “So, what now?”

Crowley grinned when he realized what could indeed come now. “S’far as I can tell, this is all one big ‘go ahead’ for me to do whatever I like with you. And there are a lot of things I’d like to do with you.” He put the Bentley into gear and started full speed towards the shop. The Angel was practically glowing.


	8. A Second Sail; A Saved Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fulfillment of lesser known prophesies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this strange meandering fic in a fandom I joined all of two weeks ago. There will be an epilogue shortly, but please allow me a moment to push my two agendas:
> 
> 1) “I Am a Nightmare” by Brand New should be the official ineffable husbands (or at least angsty!crowley) ship song and if just one person agrees with me I will be validated for a lifetime.  
> 2) Totally unrelated, you should watch The End of the F***ing World because it is the only other fiction that’s made me go crazy lately.
> 
> Okay that’s it I love you.

Crowley already had his jacket off by the time they reached the back room of the bookshop. His swaggering walk was at its absolute peak - the Angel following behind worried he might topple over to either side with each stride.

“Should I put on some-“ Aziraphale’s rote politeness was quickly stifled by Crowley, who had twisted round and covered the Angel’s mouth with his own. He knew he had to do this right now, before it came to another conversation, another chance to overthink it. 

“No,” Crowley growled between kisses, “we don’t need...any bloody tea.” He lightly bit at Aziraphale’s throat, maneuvering the white jacket off the Angel’s shoulders. 

Aziraphale was admittedly taken aback. He’d kissed Crowley in a moment of comfort and longing, and in a moment of drunken camaraderie and lust, but full stop in the middle of the day was...new, if not a little awkward. He let the Demon take off his jacket, but followed it with a slight noise of hesitation.

“What, what is it?” The Demon backed away at the sound. His voice was husky with a thread of fear. “Angel, please tell me what it is.”

Aziraphale noticed that for once the word ‘Angel’ sounded more like an endearment coming from Crowley, rather than an ironic title to be used in choice moments. This made him smile, which in turn made the Demon relax a little. “It’s nothing, I’m just...well. I’m still very new to this.”

Crowley scratched the back of his head. “Right, yeah. Maybe some tea, then?” He took a deep, steadying breath as Aziraphale happily got to work at the much more familiar task. Crowley paced. He was going to lose his nerve, he knew it.

“Kettle’s on.” Aziraphale chimed, and then eyed Crowley’s pacing and fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I’ve-“

“You’ve done nothing, so stop there.” Crowley said, looking over at him. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong, ever probably. That’s my job, doing things wrong.”

“You haven’t-“ the Angel thought carefully at how to respond in kind without a lie. “You’ve only ever done right by me.” This was the truth he could tell. A pure truth. “Let’s sit down, shall we? Is everything alright?” 

The two sat next to one another on the sofa, Crowley’s slouch next to the perfect posture of the Angel. “Everything’s fine. It’s bloody great. According to the kid we’re...tickety boo.” 

“The same child you called a small bastard and threatened with death?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but stifle laugh.

“The very same. If he’s right-“

“-and we don’t know that he is.”

Crowley thought about this. “Well, he seemed to know what he was talking about. Gave a compelling argument at the very least.”

“You called him a rat fink, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Right, well, anyway, if he’s right...I’m in the good graces of God for the first time in...well. A very long time.” He breathed out heavily at the weight of that thought.

Aziraphale reached to put a comforting hand on the Demon’s thigh, but Crowley had stood and started pacing again before he managed. 

“Well what does that bloody mean? What am I going to do with that? With all this freedom and love and...” he waved his hand dismissively. “No word from Her, you’ve noticed. Not like She’s giving us any answers, any-“

“Rules?” Aziraphale smiled softly. “Like in a book, maybe?”

Crowley looked like he was going to respond before the familiarity washed over him. He collapsed back down to the sofa. “Oh.”

“I have a feeling...” Aziraphale started. “I have a feeling that we’ve been a lot more like humans than we care to admit for quite some time. Humans, they make their own rules, and hopefully those rules are kind and fair.”

Crowley laughed. “Yeah? How’s that going for them here?”

“Better than anywhere else.” Aziraphale saw Crowley raise his eyebrows at the unfamiliar blaspheming. “I know you’re not very good at this particular kind of thing, but I think we may need to have...faith.”

The Demon groaned deeply. “Yeah, never been good at that.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat somewhat nervously. “Maybe you just need to have faith in...well. Something good. Something to fight for.”

Crowley looked at the Angel carefully. He saw the nervousness. He also saw everything he had ever fought for. “You saying I need to have faith in you, Angel?” He let Aziraphale mumble for a few seconds, just to watch him squirm. “Well I do. So. Good point, I suppose.”

Aziraphale felt such warmth at those words that he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in towards the Demon. He brushed his lips softly across Crowley’s, both of them letting the kiss linger.

“Better go get the kettle,” Crowley said quietly against the Angel’s cheek. “I’d like to be uninterrupted for once in our bloody lives. Not that we have to-“

“Be right with you,” Aziraphale said, eyes sparkling. After taking the kettle off he asked himself, briefly, if he should go on with the tea or just sod it and get back to the sofa. After almost no consideration, he chose the latter. “Right, now.” He said, settling back next to Crowley.

Crowley rested a hand on Aziraphale’s leg. “S’gonna take me some time, getting used to the feeling part. It’s a whole...thing.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “And I...I can very much see myself enjoying if we were to just walk into the shop some evening and start...carrying on like that.”

“What d’you mean? Ripping one another’s clothes off?” Crowley grinned, leaning in close for just long enough to make Aziraphale’s skin prickle.

“Mmm.” Aziraphale agreed, shivering. “But I might need some time...getting used to it, as you said.”

“Oh, I’ve got all the time in the world for you, Angel.” Crowley ran his hand along Aziraphale’s thigh. “Tell me, what can I do to help?”

“I, well...” the Angel searched his memory for something that put him at ease. “I like...talking to you first.”

“Yeah?” Crowley asked, a little surprised. “Well the two of us never shut up so that should be easy. S’all right if I do this while we talk?” he asked softly into Aziraphale’s throat, planting stray kisses. 

“Quite all right” Aziraphale sighed happily, tilting his head up to give Crowley full access. “And is there anything...”

Crowley moved in closer and put his arm over the Angel’s chest, still trailing his lips over the soft skin. “To be honest,” he said in a thick voice, causing Aziraphale to hum pleasantly at the feeling on his skin, “I like talking to you too. Helps me sort it all out.” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley looked up, retuning the smile in earnest. “Can I...”

“Please,” Aziraphale breathed, and almost before he’d gotten the word out Crowley was kissing him. 

“Door’s locked?” Crowley asked briefly as he slid over the Angel’s lap to straddle him. Aziraphale nodded, wordless as he gripped his hands on Crowley’s thighs and leaned up for more. “Kettle’s off?” Another nod. “No celestial peeping Toms?” This last part Crowley said more towards the ceiling. “Good, I’ve got you all to myself,” he whispered into the Angel’s ear before kissing him again.

The Angel’s head was swimming with this. He was used to emotions, yes, used to love, but used to Crowley purring affection into his ear? Used to hands lighting small fires all over his skin? Not even a little. It was more indulgent than the finest desserts, more nerve wracking than his most egregious lies to Heaven. Nothing compared.

Crowley took his time. Everything felt fast for once, like there would never be enough time to dedicate to tasting the Angel, feeling him, being with him. When they fumbled out of their shirts there was an obvious and uncomfortable pause, both of them waiting for the lightning to strike. But it didn’t, and soon Crowley’s hands were shaking as he lightly reached one between Aziraphale’s legs, finding that the Angel was every bit as aroused as he’d hoped. The Angel made a sound, half moan and half gasp of surprise. Crowley blushed deeply at the sound. He stared at the Angel as he pressed his palm down firmly, examining the reaction. “I could watch your face do that forever,” he uttered, feeling almost sick with desire. A different type of desire than he was used to. Better.

Aziraphale was the one who first dared to pull at Crowley’s trousers, suggesting they be removed. Crowley, surprisingly himself, did not jump at the chance straight away. Instead he got to it slowly, reveling in the moment. When he did, he helped the Angel out of his remaining clothing, placing a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s hip. He looked the Angel over. Aziraphale was panting, blushed pink, and looking at Crowley with such love and trust that it almost made the Demon burst into tears. He had to keep some dignity about himself, though. 

The sofa - now more a sofa bed - had undergone just enough of a miracle to accommodate Crowley pushing Aziraphale onto his back. Crowley wasn’t actually sure if he or the Angel had done this, but it was quite helpful. Crowley twisted himself around Aziraphale, running his hands everywhere he could reach. “Aziraphale,” he breathed. It was a statement and a question all at once.

Aziraphale leaned his forehead against the Demon’s and breathed him in. “Yes, please yes.” They both trembled as Crowley found his position, any human inconvenience miracled away without a thought. Crowley examined the Angel’s face, looking for any trace of hesitation. When he saw none, he leaned down for a gentle kiss and slowly, almost cautiously entered him. 

Aziraphale gasped and clutched Crowley tightly. He felt like the universe was coming undone at the seams, exposing everything he had yet to learn about being alive. Which was so, so much, he realized as Crowley eased into a slow rhythm. He’d never felt this kind of physical pleasure, the kind that was tangled so fully with emotion that they could not be separated. Time melted away. The universe melted away. It was just the two of them; two halves finally meeting as a whole.

In the past in these kinds of situations with mortals, the Demon had felt himself...not so much disconnected as never connected in the first place. He was cool and collected and in charge. Now he was awestruck, nervous, almost pleading. Each time the Angel raised his hips against him, Crowley whimpered, growled, grabbed, bit, tried to find anything to calm himself down. But there was no calming down, he knew that, as their rhythm only picked up speed. “You are everything to me, Aziraphale. Everything. I will never let you down, you have my word,” he managed between hitched breaths and groans.

The Angel knew instinctively why this had once been called “knowing one another.” Crowley was different, a new version of himself revealed, all reverent staring and feverish whispers of devotion. Aziraphale wished he could return the sentiments as he hung on every one, but each time he reached for words they slipped away with his next moan. He had to tightly close his eyes and focus intently to say the one thing he knew could replace all the other missing words. “I love you, Crowley.”

This sent the Demon into a tremor as he hissed out his own admission of love. The Angel gripped Crowley’s thrusting hips, staring in raw appreciation, raising himself to meet each movement. “Crowley” he gasped suddenly, not understanding exactly what was happening to him, but knowing that it was the most sublime sensation he‘d ever experienced.

The Demon smiled through an expression bordering on pain. “I’m here,” he said, grabbing one of the Angel’s hands and lacing their fingers. “You’re safe, Aziraphale. Fall into it.” 

And so the Angel did. He cried out, spasming against Crowley who held him firmly in place. The movements along with the Angel’s contorted face and cries brought the Demon to the same place, falling over that same ledge. Crowley would never admit it, but in that moment filled with love and pleasure, he whispered a quiet thank you to God. A God who had left him in pieces only so he could build himself more whole than he had been to start.

The two collapsed together, panting and gently rocking until the last of their energy drained away. They lay in silence for a long time, Aziraphale stroking Crowley’s hair, and Crowley tracing slow circles on Aziraphale’s chest. 

It was the Angel who, after some time, spoke first. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Crowley tilted his head up to look at the Angel and smiled. “Neither have I.”

“Really?” The Angel asked, curious at this. He flashed back to all the bragging confidence he’d seen in the Demon before.

Crowley nodded. “What’d you call it before? An expression of love? Turns out you knew more about that than I did.” So much more, Crowley thought. To the point that it was an entirely different activity, worlds away from those nights of drunken boredom.

Aziraphale thought about this. “Six thousand years and we’re just scratching the surface of what there is to know, it seems.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know that you are never bloody getting rid of me,” Crowley laughed, placing a kiss on the Demon’s chest before sitting up. Aziraphale sat up as well, leaning his head on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley kissed the top of his head and wrapped an arm around him. “I mean it, you know. You’re going to be sick of me by the weekend. Better hope this war comes soon.”

“We should maybe consider getting a bed, then,” the Angel suggested, looking around the room that was not exactly built for this kind of thing. “Hope you didn’t mind about the sofa.”

“That was you? I thought for sure that was me!” Crowley laughed again. Aziraphale blushed. “Good thinking, Angel. Really top notch. But yes, a bed. Does that mean...”

The Angel nodded fervently. “Yes, it means that. A thousand times over. You’ll find me quite hard to get rid of as well.” 

“Wouldn’t even think of trying. So, what now?” 

“Well,” the Angel said, straightening. “I say we have a drink to celebrate. And then several more. And perhaps, if you would be interested, we could eventually discuss those ‘frilly things’ you mentioned the humans like to do.”

“If we discuss that we’re going to have to celebrate again after,” the Demon warned with a grin. “There are an awful lot of these earthly pleasures.”

“I can’t wait to find out.” Aziraphale smiled, hardly able to contain his excitement for eternity.


End file.
